If He's Daring (7 page)

“No, there may be a large part of me begging to do so, but I understand that it would be unwise. I just came out to again ask you to be very careful. I begin to think I have long underestimated the threat Morris can pose. Did John and Thomas find anything?”

“No. There must have been yet another man watching what happened. There was no note and no trail.”

Orion gave in to the urge to touch her hair when she sighed in disappointment, and lightly stroked the thick braid hanging down her back. It was as soft as he had imagined. He ached to see it loose and falling in waves around her shoulders. Since such thoughts made his blood stir, he quieted them before it put him in such a roused state that riding would be uncomfortable.

“He was no true threat before now. Not really. He had little chance of winning in the courts, if only because he did not have the money to bribe enough judges.” He grinned when she frowned. “Too cynical?”

“A touch, yet, sadly, probably deserved.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Be safe.”

Watching her hurry back inside the inn, Orion touched his cheek. The spot she had kissed was no warmer than the rest of his skin, yet he had felt the heat of her lips seep straight into his blood. He glanced to the window of the private parlor they had booked and saw his son in the window grinning at him. There was definitely a long, serious talk due with that boy.

Mounting his horse, he ignored the urge to go back inside the inn and see if Catryn was interested in a little more serious kissing. At the moment he had quite a few places on his body that would welcome the touch of those soft, warm lips. Shaking aside that salacious thought, he waved at Giles and rode away in the direction he was certain Morris had gone.

There was another talk that was long overdue as well. Catryn had to be told of the possibility that she may be a far distant relation to his family, either Wherlocke or Vaughn. If Giles was right and Alwyn was talking to spirits, he would need training to deal with such a gift. Although the child could be one of those rare people outside of his clan who were born with a gift, Orion doubted it. The way Catryn could sense danger made it highly likely that there would be a Wherlocke or Vaughn lurking on the family tree. It was not unusual for families to have hidden the connection as deeply as they could; in the past, many of them had paid a high price for their gifts.

That was not going to be an easy discussion to have. He would have to tell her some truths about his family that could have her running for the hills. Orion had to trust that she would not be afraid. She had accepted his assurances that he had a skill beyond understanding for finding anyone and anything, and she clearly accepted Giles’s assurances that he “just knew things.” Then there was how she dealt with her own son and her own gift, one she had confessed to him already.

He had to carefully plan his argument, for he expected she would immediately deny any such connection, not out of distaste for his family but because such a connection would mean that her father or mother, or both, had hidden it from her. Orion did not need Giles’s gift to know that would sting, and sting deeply.

Hours later, he was still sorting out the best approach to his coming talk with Catryn when he came across several big men standing around a very recognizable carriage. The man with the calf had been right the other day. It was a foolish color to paint a carriage one used to travel on these roads. The blue and gold was barely visible beneath all the filth that covered it halfway up. One of the wheels was broken and the carriage listed badly at the side of the road.

After making certain his pistol was close at hand, Orion rode closer. To present no appearance of a threat, he kept the horse at an easy pace but also kept a close watch on the area until he was certain Morris was not around. The absence of the man did not mean it was safe to approach, as the men studying the carriage could be some of his hirelings.

“There is a sad end for such a vehicle,” he said when all four men standing around Morris’s gaudy vehicle turned to look at him.

“Just a broken wheel,” said a man with thick, graying hair. “All else is fine. You know this carriage?”

“And the gent who drives it,” replied Orion, sensing that all he had here were men hired to fix Morris’s carriage. “Assume he and his precious horses have gone on to some inn.”

“The Bald Nun.” The man grinned when Orion could not fully stifle a laugh. “Aye, fool name. If the one who named it meant to honor the woman, he could have just called it Sister Anne’s, but I suspect men would hesitate to have a pint at such a place.”

“I think I would be counted among them. So you were sent out to fix this?”

“We were, but I am wondering why ye are so interested.”

“Sir Morris de Warrenne and I are at odds at the moment. He thinks he should have all his nephew has inherited and I think he should not, as does the boy’s mother.”

“Wee lad with black curls and what can have a foul mouth from time to time?”

“Well, I know about the black curls and big blue eyes, but had not been warned about the foul mouth.”

The man laughed. “It can be foul indeed, but only for Sir de Warrenne. Lad was all sweet and polite to me until de Warrenne ordered him to get walking to the inn. Then the wee lad looked like he was thinking hard and said he would walk, but he would walk behind and stick his sword right up the bastard’s fat arse.” He grinned when the other men laughed but quickly grew serious again. “Lad had no sword, but fair wished I did when de Warrenne knocked him to the ground and kicked him. Poor wee lad. He sore wanted to cry. Could see it, but he stood up, brushed himself off, and started walking. Have to admire that.”

“Good thing he did though, for that wind what whipped across the road there would have sent such a small boy sailing off into the fields,” said a stocky, dark-haired man.

“Wind?” Orion looked around. “This was awhile ago, was it?”

“Only came up when de Warrenne was here,” said the gray-haired man. “Came up, knocked de Warrenne on his arse, and then was gone. Oddest thing.”

Not so odd if you happen to have a spirit as your close friend. Whatever spirit was attached to young Alwyn was clearly enraged with its inability to truly protect the child. Orion needed no more proof that little Lord Alwyn de Warrenne was the possessor of a very strong gift, one much like Penelope’s. Such things had occasionally happened to his cousin when a particularly strong spirit formed a deep attachment to her. The fact that the boy was obviously carrying on sensible conversations with the spirit told him that this was a very strong relationship. Peppered with profanity, but sensible.

“How long do you think it will take for you to fix the wheel?” he asked.

The gray-haired man narrowed his eyes, and Orion could almost hear the man calculating how much payment he could ask for to not do the work he was already being paid for, without sounding greedy. When he then turned to face the other three men, Orion pretended to not notice the almost silent consultation, only a few whispers passing among the men. Orion idly wondered if he should try to bargain for a lower price than whatever they asked. He needed them to delay Morris as long as possible so that he and Catryn could get closer to their quarry but did not want these men to know just how badly he needed it.

Abruptly the gray-haired man turned to face him and stated a price that Orion had no intention of arguing with. He suspected it was the same as what they had told de Warrenne it would cost to replace his wheel. “Just how long do you think you can delay?” he asked the man as he counted out the payment and put it in the man’s big calloused hand.

“Well now, we were just talking of sending Abe here to get a new wheel. That would only take but a few hours, as there is one in the stable at the inn. But, if we say he has to go farther to find the right one, or if I have to make a new one, well, that could take a day or two. “

“A day would suit me fine. Two days would be even better.”

“We will lag about as much as we can. De Warrenne gets too heated, though, and we will have to complete the job.”

“Agreed. He promised to pay you the same amount I just did, did he not?”

“He did. I decided that this way at least we will get what we earned as well as the pleasure of irritating him.”

“Believe he will cheat you?”

“Without hesitation. Has that look about him. In the way he talks, too. Man is too fond of himself.”

“And he will be staying at The Bald Nun?”

“He will. Funny that, he was quite pleased with the name. Most folk laugh as you did. He said that finally he would be resting at an inn with a good name and mayhap his luck has changed, or something similar. No idea what the fool was on about.”

“Superstitious,” Orion said. “Must like the word
nun
. Probably weary of all the devils and hangings in the names of the inns he has passed or stayed in. Any chance you heard anything about where he plans to go once he has his carriage back?”

“To the coast. Portsmouth. They were all talking about ships and the cost of sailing, and the men with him were not even sure they wanted to go as they have no interest in being in a foreign place. One was saying he had heard some tales about France and all, and was thinking it might be a place to stay far away from.”

“Ah, at least one of them appears to have some wit. And now I will leave you to your work, or lack thereof. One last question, how many men does he have with him?”

“Four, and one appears to be the manacle for the boy.”

“Thank you kindly and forgive me if I send up a prayer or two for some rain.”

“Tsk, that would be a shame. No work done when it be raining.”

He left the men laughing behind him and turned to go back to Catryn and Giles. It was several miles before he realized he had stopped calling her Lady Catryn. He was growing inordinately comfortable with her company. That was also a change for him. Orion knew it was shallow, but he chose women who would give him sex and be a pretty bauble on his arm for a while. In return he gave them pleasure, a companion to take them to various events, and a shiny gift when he moved on. If he thought about companionship at all, it was just to hope that they did not bore him into a stupor or set his teeth on edge. Then he moved on a little more quickly than he might have otherwise.

Catryn was the first woman outside of his relations that he had ever simply enjoyed being with, talking to, arguing with. She held his interest even though she was not sharing his bed. Orion recognized the danger in that but experienced no panic. That was something he should give some careful consideration to. They were bound together until they settled this trouble with Morris. Orion was not a man to leave a job half done.

Orion touched his cheek and could not stop himself from smiling. She had told him to stay safe, and sent him off with a kiss. It was the first time in a very long time since anyone had done so. He also knew she was worrying about him and could not banish the good feeling that gave him. Complications lay ahead of him concerning little Lady Catryn, but he almost looked forward to them.

Orion leaned against a tree and took a deep drink of ale while he watched his son with the woman they were both so determined to help. He had been surprised when Thomas had told him Catryn had taken the boy to the green next to the inn for it was no garden, simply a place where the innkeeper let some of his livestock graze. Lady Catryn sat on the grass, toy soldiers spread out on the ground in front of her, the setting sun bathing her in a warm golden light. Giles sat by her side, listening intently as she spoke of the Battle of Worcester in 1651 with a keen knowledge of not only the people involved but tactics used, and what gave one side the victory over the other. Orion found that surprising because most women knew no more about the military than what uniform they appreciated most on a man, or the name of a battle if an ancestor had gained his title for fighting in it.

She fascinated him. That both thrilled and disturbed him. It had been a very long time since he had been fascinated by a woman. Lustful, pleasured, and sated, but not fascinated. Most of his interest in a woman had centered in his groin for more years than he cared to think about. It was true that he only pursued women he knew he had a good chance of bedding, but outside of the bed he had never found them more than passingly pleasant company, his interest in them fleeting.

His body ached to seduce Lady Catryn but, for the first time in years, he was doing his best to ignore its demand. Instinct continued to warn him that Lady Catryn was not a woman a man easily walked away from. That was what he did; he walked away. That is what he planned to continue to do until he was too old to be interested in bed sport, or dead. Or it had been. He was beginning to think something was changing within him and did not know whether to be glad or scared.

It must be the ale making him think so much and so deeply about a woman, he decided as he took another drink. That was the only explanation for why he stood there watching the pair, why he wanted to join them. In his mind’s eye he could see the three of them spending time on a rare sunny day like the happy family in a portrait. Wherlockes were not known for having happy families. And it would include four children: three boys he had bred on other women, plus her son. The portrait did not appear quite so calm and pastoral now but was still oddly tempting.

Giles sat up a little straighter, cocked his head as if listening for something, and then sneaked a glance over his shoulder. Orion raised his tankard in a silent salute. As a result of his hard years living on the streets of London, Giles was far more keenly alert to his surroundings than most children. He was surprised that the boy had not noticed him sooner. He welcomed the disruption of his thoughts, however, as he walked toward Giles and Catryn, for they had begun to make him think on all the promising marriages that had recently occurred amongst the Wherlockes. That was certainly a dangerous path for a confirmed bachelor to meander down.

Catryn hastily sat up straighter, a little disturbed at being found scrambling about in the grass like a child. It was not just the tankard of ale that told her Sir Orion had stopped in the inn for a while before he had come looking for them. He was far too clean and tidy for a man who had spent most of the day hunting someone. He also appeared to have suffered no wounds, and the tight ball of worry she had carried in her stomach all day loosened.

“You are well?” she asked.

“I am, and I found out a great deal about Morris the kidnapper,” he replied.

She scrambled to her feet. “Did you get any news of how Alwyn fares?”

“Alwyn is still alive, but we can talk about all I learned over the meal I have ordered. It is ready in the parlor by now.” He moved to help her pick up the toy soldiers. “Some of these are wooden.” He studied the fine detail on the Roundhead soldier he held. “The carving is exquisite.”

“My da does them for Alwyn. He makes the leaders and the horses, the cannons, and a few other items but buys the rest. He said if he tried to make the whole army, Alwyn would be a grandfather himself before it was done. I thought they would help comfort Alwyn after his ordeal.”

He looked at the box she held open for him to put the soldier in, studying the dragons carved on the sides as he carefully placed the figurine in with the others. It did not surprise him to see a griffin carved on the lid when she closed the box. The work was some of the best he had ever seen.

“An unusual skill for a baron,” he murmured, taking her by the arm and starting to walk back to the inn.

“Da says it calms him and helps him think things out. He started as a boy, soon outpacing the man who taught him.” She smiled. “There are a lot of his works at our country house. There are a few at the house where I lived with my husband, as well.”

Orion coaxed her to speak more of her father as they made their way to the small private parlor where the maid was just finishing setting out a hearty meal. He could hear the love she had for the man in every word. What he did not hear was any hint that her father had any special gift aside from the one he had for carving.

The meal was cleared away and the sweet placed out before he gained the courage to talk about the possibility that her family had crossed with his sometime in the past.

“So your father does not know when danger approaches nor speaks to people no one else can see?” he finally asked, deciding the blunt approach was needed.

“No. Why should he?” she asked.

“Because both you and Alwyn have a rather special gift. It is not strange to think that your sire might have one, too.”

“Gift? You call such things
gifts
? One does not have to hide a gift, sir.”

“Oh, but you do. You most certainly do,” said Giles before stuffing his mouth full of stewed apple and clotted cream.

Catryn stared at Orion. “Do you have one of these gifts? Does Giles?”

“Giles is too young for his gift to be evident, although I begin to think I know what his gift is, and that it is very strong. It appears he knows what a person is feeling. I can find anyone and anything, as I have said. I even know a plot’s twists and turns with but a tiny fragment of a clue. Few will gamble with me, as I can tell what their next move will be and what the next card will be. I can draw a loud groan from my relatives if I even suggest a game of chess. All the Wherlockes and Vaughns have gifts, some strong and some weak. It is why I am so curious about the ones you and Alwyn appear to have, because the name Gryffin is unknown to me.”

For a moment she stared at him and wondered what he was trying to tell her. All of this talk about gifts was confusing. Then her eyes widened so much they stung as her mind filled with scraps of knowledge, whispered tales, and gossip about his family that had been buried beneath her fears for Alwyn.

“Oh. Oh dear. You are one of
those
Wherlockes. I
have
heard of you.”

“By the look upon your face I must conclude that you have heard very little that was complimentary,” he drawled.

The hot sting of a blush swept over her cheeks as she realized how rude she had been. “What I heard was that your family is large, distressingly handsome or beautiful, and rather odd. Also that it appears to be very good at producing sons even though there appeared to be only a rather angry envy of that as if the blessing was wasted on you. A few spoke of darker things, but I refused to listen to such tales. That might be why it took me so long to recall any of them. Then, too, I have ne’er believed it right to mark someone evil or wrong for being different in some way.” She smiled a little. “Or an entire family, and one that rarely appears in the society that so many of their number were born into.”

He returned her smile. “We visit with that horde when it pleases us.”

“How politely condescending.” She was not surprised when he laughed, for there had been no bite to her words. “Yet none of you make any attempt to silence the whispers?”

“People have been whispering about us from the moment the first of my ancestors revealed that he was different in a way people did not understand or trust. Mayhap now we simply do not care what society thinks for they are no longer allowed by law to condemn us, jail us, or murder us for our differences. And mayhap we are too aware of how many of our ancestors died at the hands of persecutors like them. I can, in a small way, excuse the peasantry for their actions, for most are uneducated, but those of my class should have had more sense.”

Catryn thought that over for a moment and then nodded. “I believe I would feel the same.”

“Do you know if any one of your own ancestors was killed or jailed for being different?”

“Killed or jailed? That would be some clue, would it?”

“Yes. In the past it happened quite often. It is why our family became such a reclusive one and has only recently fully come out into society.” He smiled faintly. “Well, what we consider fully. It is why we even pick our servants with the utmost care, the majority of them coming from the Pugh or Jones families.”

“But would you not know your own family lines and history? Would you not know if the name Gryffin appeared somewhere along the way?”

“Oh, we have our histories and our inheritance charts and family lines, but they are not always complete. In the old days when there were bad times, when the witch cry grew loud and people were either dragged to a stake or hanged, some of our ancestors hid or even burned their family ledgers to prevent other family members from being identified. We all learn the story of the entire family that was slaughtered for being decried as witches, the parents and eldest daughter burned at the stake, and the young children tossed into the flames to join them.” He nodded when she paled and placed a hand over her mouth. “Ancestors of the Duke of Elder wood. If there had not been one brother who was out to sea at the time, that line would have been completely wiped out that night. He stayed away for a long time, too, and raised his family elsewhere until that period of turmoil passed. What better way to ensure that all of your family does not get slaughtered than to rid yourself of all the writings and histories detailing marriages and births and all of that?”

“It was that bad?”

“It could be from time to time. It eased some after the Church of England was founded, but then when Bloody Mary sat on the throne there were the witch-hunters for a while. Even now, though the law allowing people to torture and kill a proven or confessed witch has been repealed, it is not wise to be too open about one’s differences. We learned to keep few records and hide them well.”

“Which leaves you with a lot of, well, holes.”

“Exactly. Several of my family have made it their business to hunt down as much information as they can, try to find records that were hidden away, but many records are lost forever.”

Catryn frowned. “So you truly think the Gryffins may have joined with your family for a while?”

“We are all Welsh originally. It would hardly be a surprise if they had.”

“There is that to consider. Yet, why would my father not tell me?”

“He may not know. Your lines may have a few unexplained breaks and lost information as well.”

“Why would you believe Alwyn has a gift?” she asked, even though she was frightened to hear his answer. “He is just a little boy who speaks to people of his own creation.”

“I think you know it is more than that,” Orion said, recognizing the fear in her eyes, the deep desire to utterly and firmly deny what he was about to say. “He speaks with the spirits of the dead, Catryn.”

She slowly shook her head. “No. No, he does not. He is just a little boy, only just turned five years of age. He does not even truly understand what dead is.”

“He might not, especially if the loss of someone has not yet darkened his world.”

“His father died.”

“You said they were not close.”

“That is true, but Alwyn was there in the house when he died, and he attended all the services.”

“With his friend?”

“How could you possibly know my son speaks to the dead? You cannot see his friends any more than I can.”

He reached across the table and placed his hands over hers, stilling their agitated movement. “Answer me this: Would your son know how to threaten someone? Know enough to tell a man that he was going to rip out his innards and tie them around his neck in a bow?” He nodded when she paled. “Does he know the sorts of words that would have him saying he was going to stick his sword up a man’s arse? He has said these things and more, and one man said he pauses as if he is thinking hard before saying it. Just as if he is listening, then repeating someone else’s words. Another man, who paused near Alwyn when he was in the carriage, swears he saw a light behind the boy, even though Morris was blocking any light that might have come in through the carriage window. And, as your son walked away from a very angry Morris, a strange wind swept across the road at just that point and knocked Morris down.”

Although her hands had stilled beneath his, she was rocking slightly, back and forth, in her seat. Orion feared he had given her far too much to deal with. She dearly loved her child and she was smart enough to understand what this particular gift could mean for his future.

“I shall write to my father and demand he find out if there are Wherlockes or Vaughns in my family. You shall see there are none, and that means Alwyn is just a boy so in need of friends he makes them up in his mind.” She leapt to her feet and hurried out of the room.

Orion cursed, took a deep drink of wine, and slumped in his chair. “That did not go well.”

“She loves her boy,” said Giles, “and she is afraid, very afraid, that he really is different. It is not a fear for herself or anything like that, but fear for him. Why would she fear for him?”

“Because this is going to make his life difficult. Perhaps not as difficult as she fears, but it will not be easy for him.”